


Progression

by Schm0use



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Humor, M/M, OT4 Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schm0use/pseuds/Schm0use
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick has to figure out if it's better to be alone and dead, or with others and wanting to kill himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Works Well With Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dead Center campaign.

"My name's Ellis, but some people call me El. I'd prefer it if you didn't, cause El sounds like a  _girl's_  name—"

And Nick was already not paying attention. Was this kid faking it? Could anybody really be that much of a hick? And seriously, wasn't it just his luck to end up with this group, where the only other person who looked like they knew how to use a gun didn't even know how to properly conjugate verbs?

He realized they were all looking expectantly at him now. Oh, right. They were doing the whole 'introduction' thing.

"Name's Nick." He said. "But don't plan on learning it, 'cuz I ain't stickin' around."

The girl raised her eyebrows at him—annoyed? Amused? He couldn't tell, partially because the elevator was starting to fill with smoke, and visibility was going to shit. There wasn't time for talking after that, because the big guy opened the doors and everything went straight to fucking hell.

"This must be a 'safe room'." The girl said, sometime later, when they're barricaded behind red steel doors, catching their breath. Nick thought he was about to hack up a lung—that much smoke inhalation couldn't be healthy, could it? Was he dying?

"How d'you know so much about all this stuff, Rochelle?" Overalls asked. Nick tuned out through most of her explanation—something about being down in Savannah to report on the Infection. Great. Whatever.

"So, anybody have any idea how the hell we're gonna get out of here?" He interrupted roughly.

"Thought you weren't sticking around." Rochelle pointed out. Nick glared at her.

"If we've all got to be going the same way  _anyway_ ," He ground out, "Then I guess there's no harm in it. I don't have to stay, it makes no difference to me."

"No, I think we should stay together." The kid said earnestly. He looked at Nick. "Might be dangerous by yourself."

Nick sighed, but nodded. He was probably right.

"We need to head for the mall." Rochelle said. "There's an evac station set up there."

"The  _mall_?" Nick stared in disbelief. "Jesus, we barely made it out of a damn  _hotel_ , there's no way we're gonna survive a trip to the fucking mall."

"Son." The Coach dude said. "I don't like your attitude."

Nick thought about telling him all the ways he didn't give a  _fuck_  what anybody thought of his attitude, but then remembered how Coach had bludgeoned one of the little laughing guys to death with a crowbar when it had jumped on him. He didn't want to give him a reason  _not_  to do that again.

"We just gotta keep movin', people." Coach said.

"Uh huh." The kid nodded. "Let's go kill us some  _zombies_."

Or, Nick thought, I could just shoot myself in the face right now and save myself some trouble.

He wondered later, briefly, as he sprinted out of the store with a six-pack of cola, why he didn't just do that when he had the chance.

"Goddamn  _cola_ , are you  _kidding me_?!" He yelled, and he had a shotgun, which he couldn't exactly fire one-handed, so he beat back the nearest Infected  _with the cola_. Which, granted, was kind of bad ass, but still.

"Run, Nick, run!" Ellis yelled from behind him.

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?!" He shouted back, taking the stairs back to stupid Whitaker two at a time. As he ran across the path, he shook the cola viciously. "Fucking… stupid… hicks…"

He got the cola in the slot, and Whitaker blew the tanker.

"Let's go!" Coach called triumphantly. Ellis looked back expectantly at Nick, who held up a hand.

"Hang on, I just wanna see something."

He heard Whitaker open the cola, heard it fizz and bubble and splash all over him. Whitaker started swearing. Nick grinned all the way to the next safe room.

"That shit was  _crazy_!" Ellis said, laughing, once they were safely inside. "Man, Nick, I don't know how you did it—you was running with the cola, and all those zombies were just chasin' you, but you was like the  _Flash_  or something—"

Nick shrugged, and pretended not to be just a little flattered.

Rochelle laughed weakly, and shook her head. "Let's never do that again."

Unfortunately, approximately twenty-five minutes later, they had to do it again.

"Ellis?" Nick yelled. "Ellis, where are you?!"

For a brief second, he was actually afraid. The alarm was tearing at his hearing, the horde was rushing at him, and as far as he could tell, he was alone. Ellis had been right behind him, he'd just seen him—

Then: "I'm here, I'm right here!"

Nick turned just in time to see him slash his way through a knot of Infected with a fucking katana.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't just fucking disappear on me like that!" Nick said angrily. "Shit!"

Ellis blinked at him, then gave him one of those smiles. "Nick, were you _worried_?"

"You realize I could've been jumped by one of those little guys while you were gone or something, right?" Nick shot back acidly. "We need to find that fucking alarm, it's giving me a headache."

They got it shut off, and had to limp the rest of the way to safety. That last attack took it out of them.

"I can't believe we made it out of there." Nick said, more to himself than the others. But Coach nodded.

"That was good teamwork, kids." He said, attempting to wrap a bandage around his forearm, which had been badly burned by acid. He gave up, letting Rochelle take over.

"We're kickin' ass!" Ellis said excitedly. Nick snorted. "Aw, come on, Nick, it's true. Ain't no way we'd've survived if we weren't together."

"I guess."

Ellis grinned at him. "You're startin' to like uuus…"

"Ellis, I will shoot you."

The kid just laughed, which probably would've pissed Nick off more, even a day ago, but instead he just resignedly shook his head. They had to keep moving.

In the elevator of the atrium, Ellis spied the racecar.

"I got an idea, y'all."

An idea that devolved into blood and screaming, but an idea nonetheless.

They'd just got the last can of gas into the car, when a damn Tank showed up and downed Rochelle. Coach and Ellis were already almost to the car.

"JUST GET IT STARTED!" Nick screamed at them. He was the closest to Rochelle, and so he ran back, pulling her to her feet.

"Car's ready, let's go!" He told her, practically dragging her to back to it. "Shit, shit,  _shit, shit,_   _motherfucker_ ,  _SHIT!_ " The Tank was literally  _right behind them_.

He shoved Rochelle inside the car, and dove in after her, and Ellis  _floored_  it the hell out of there.

"THAT'S A  _WINDOW_!" Nick yelled, terrified, to which Ellis yelled back, accompanied by a whoop and crazed laughter,

"I FUCKIN'  _KNOW_!" and a second later, all four of them screaming their heads off (Ellis in delight, the others in sheer, piss-your-pants fear), they smashed through said window, wheels airborne for what felt like a good five seconds, before touching down and fishtailing down the street.

"Am I alive?" Rochelle asked weakly, after a minute. "Oh, my God, is it possible I'm still alive?"

"Not sure." Nick responded, eyes closed. "Tell you when I know myself."

Coach is the first to recover, after Ellis. "We made it, motherfuckers!"

" _Hell_  yeah, we did!" Ellis said, and Nick could  _hear_  the grin in his voice.

Someone touched his hand, and he turned to see Rochelle. She was smiling at him, albeit a little smugly.

"Thanks." She nodded.

"Uh… yeah." He shrugged. "Don't mention it."

"Hey, Nick!" Ellis called back. "Looks like you'll be stickin' around 'til New Orleans, huh?"

"Looks like I am, Ellis."

God help him.


	2. Tunnel Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should be obvious, but there's nothing a few zombies (or Rochelle) can't move along. 
> 
> Dark Carnival campaign.

So of course the car had proven useless after approximately negative two miles of driving, and of course they were barely any closer to New Orleans than they'd been back at that damn mall. Nick should have seen this coming, but his pessimism had reached the bottom of the barrel once he'd found himself stuck in the middle of a freakin' zombie apocalypse with only a wannabe reporter, an aging P.E. teacher, and a paradoxically pretty redneck as company.

"Ellis. Ellis, would you get away from the goddamn car?"  _Before I turn around and find you fucking the exhaust pipe_  was the other half of his plea, but he didn't say it out loud.

"I see search lights!" Coach announced. "That's gotta be Whispering Oaks!"

That pulled Ellis away from the car with a whoop. "Whispering Oaks, I love that place! My momma took me there the first time when I was only  _this_  high—"

Nick headed off into the field of cars. Fuck his life. There were going to be stories, weren't there?

"—an' this one time, me an' Keith were trying to get on one of the roller coasters, but we weren't tall enough, so we tried to sneak—"

"This is literally the worst time for you to be telling that story." Nick said, rummaging through the drawers in one of the room's of the motel they were in, looking for anything they might be able to use. They'd made it off the highway in one piece, miraculously, but he'd dropped his bottle of Tylenol when a Charger had dropped in for a visit. Ellis was with him. Coach and Rochelle were watching the outside.

"But we're not even being  _attacked_  right now." Ellis pointed out.

"Exactly, and so the one time there's a moment of quiet, I would like to have just that." Nick slammed the drawer shut, search unsuccessful. "Quiet."

Ellis fiddled with his shotgun. "Okay."

Nick rolled his eyes, and stuck his head out a nearby window. "There's nothing up here! Let's keep moving."

They managed to make it a good rest of the way without too much incident, although why the fuck, he wondered, knee deep in muddy water, was there a goddamn  _marsh_  just sitting here outside a carnival? Like their life wasn't inconvenient enough as it was. He silently mourned the lower half of his pants. They trudged up the side of the hill and, oh goody, there were the fairgrounds. Ellis gleefully ran for the safe room door, mowing down a few zombies in the way. Nick followed at a slower, more reluctant pace.

"He's precious when he gets excited, isn't he?" Rochelle remarked as they straggled through the door together.

"If that's the word you want to use." Nick said shortly.

It was a whole different hell inside the carnival. Even Coach was telling stories now, and there were  _clowns_. Fucking  _clowns_.

"Is this funny to you?!" Nick asked viciously of the universe as he shot one in the face. "Zombie clowns, you think that's funny?"

"Whatsa matter, Nick, you don't like clowns?" Ellis called.

"You  _do_?" Nick asked in disbelief. "They're terrifying, they all remind me of serial killers. Clowns, by default, are serial killers!"

They'd closed the distance between each other, fighting back to back so nothing could sneak up on them. They were covering for Rochelle as she ran to turn off the Merry-Go-Round. Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Coach pistol whip a Jockey.

"Nick, are you repressing something from your childhood?" Ellis asked over his shoulder.

"What the fuck, since when are you Dr. Phil?"

"I mean, didn't your momma ever take you to an amusement park, or nothin'?" The mechanic continued. "How come you seem to hate 'em so much?"

His mother never  _had_  taken him to an amusement park when he was little, in fact. He'd only ever been to Disneyworld, once, with his ex-wife. He'd hated it. Way too many screaming children.

The sound of the Merry-Go-Round stopped.

"Let's move, let's move!" Coach shouted to them, and they booked it for the safe room.

"What's so great about amusement parks anyway?" Nick asked as they ran, more a rhetorical question than one he actually wanted answered.

"Hoo boy, you have no  _idea_!" Ellis grinned at him. The safe room was right in front of them—inside the Tunnel of Love, of all places. They ran inside.

"I think it's time we start makin' you some memories, Nick!" Ellis said.

Coach overheard. He glanced between the two of them, looked around the Tunnel of Love, and looked back.

"What the  _hell_ —"

Nick mentally facepalmed.

"Ellis, if there is one thing I  _don't_ want to do, it's 'make memories' of this stupid, goddamn carnival with  _anyone_ , least of all with  _you_."

Ellis's face fell—it was remarkable the speed with which he went from exuberant to kicked-puppy. Nick realized that he was especially good at bringing about this change in the kid. He wasn't sure whether he was proud of that or not.

Rochelle glared at him. Coach was still confused.

"We should barricade this door." Nick growled, stalking off to do just that. No one helped him. He chanced a glance back at the group. Ellis was sitting on the table, staring at his knees. Nick looked away, and pushed a bench over in front of the door. When done with this, he glanced back again, and caught the tail end of Ellis's stare. The younger man dropped his gaze quickly, busying himself with his shotgun.

After a moment, Rochelle came over.

"Do  _not_  lecture me." He snapped.

"Honestly." She said, leaning against the wall. "Would it kill you to be nice to him?"

"You know what, Ro?" Nick asked, as if the light had just dawned. "You're right. Next time I'm being attacked by a horde, I  _will_  just stop and listen to one of his stories. I'm sure that wouldn't end with me  _dead_ , or anything."

"You know what I mean." She gave him a look.

Nick sighed. "Look, he's got to learn sometime that there's a time and a place for everything. Being that chronically cheerful during a zombie apocalypse can't be a good thing."

"You are so full of shit."

"Isn't it wonderful? Aren't you just  _amazed_  at how  _utterly_  full of shit I really am?"

"He just wants you to like him." She said quietly. Nick stopped and stared at her.

"Wouldn't a normal person have figured out by now that the best way to do that is to just shut up and do what I say?" He asked. "And also give me money?"

"Maybe, but that's just how he  _is_. And you're not exactly normal either, most people would have been won over by him by now." She patted him on the arm. "You're just an asshole."

He shrugged. She looked out of the tiny window of the door.

"Also, I think he has a crush on you and just doesn't know how to express it."

Nick choked a little.

" _What_."

"Come on, guys, we should move!" Rochelle said loudly, abandoning him and moving towards the door at the other end of the room. Coach and Ellis both agreed. Nick stared after her, unmoving. Ellis glanced back.

"Nick, you coming?"

Rochelle looked back and grinned.

He was going to kill her.

The trip through the Tunnel of Love was so, so painfully awkward.

"Well, you got your wish, Ellis." Nick said, trying to sound nonchalant, he was totally cool, right? "We're on a ride."

Ellis rolled his eyes. "Some ride." He raised his eyebrows at Nick. "This is where you make out with your  _girlfriend_."

"Yeah?" Nick asked, amused. "You ever come in here with a lady of your own?"

Oh, my God, kill him now. Was he twelve? He didn't even look at Rochelle.

"Nah, not me." Ellis shook his head. "But there was this one time, when Keith—"

"Do. Not." Nick ground out.

"What about you, Nick?" Rochelle called from behind them. "You have any forays with a 'lady of your own'?"

If he didn't need to save his ammo…

"Psh." He made an of-course-I-did-are-you-stupid face. Again, twelve years old. "YES.  _Several_."

Rochelle laughed, and laughed, until a Boomer dropped down from a hole in the ceiling right on top of her, an event that Nick didn't let her live down for several days.

The coaster run was brutal, and the barns were arguably worse, and by the time they reached the stadium, Nick was fairly sure that if he ever saw another carnival in his life, he'd just go insane and start stabbing everyone he could reach with teaspoons or whatever else was available at the time.

They just had to survive this, he thought, bludgeoning a nearby zombie with the bat in his hands. The helicopter had  _just_  gotten there, Coach and Rochelle were almost to it, Ellis just behind them, and he was charging up the bleachers himself.

He heard a piercing shriek from behind him, and he spun, which was a bad fucking idea, because he got a face full of Hunter and went down, hard, on his back.

Vaguely, he heard the  _THUP-THUP-THUP_  of chopper blades, and cursed his life, because of  _course_  he would be  _so close_  and get pounced on. Fuck, fuck, he was gonna die here, wasn't he?

Suddenly, there was a whistling noise, followed by the harsh, discordant sound of a guitar striking another object, and the Hunter literally flew off him. Nick looked up. Ellis was standing there, stage lights glowing behind him, like some weird halo, and Nick had never been more glad to see anyone in his life, ever.

"Shit, man, get up!" Ellis yelled, and he actually sounded scared. "We gotta go!"

For once, Nick didn't give him a snarky reply, because holy  _shit_  he was glad to see the kid. Ellis hauled him to his feet—he was bleeding, but not too bad, he'd make it but—he took a step and hissed. It hurt to move.

Ellis threw Nick's arm over one of his shoulders; Nick was taller, but Ellis was built, and they managed to hobble towards the helicopter, slowly, up the steps.

Something sailed over their heads, beeping—a pipe bomb, thrown by Coach. Rochelle was sniping from the inside of the chopper.

"We're gonna make it." Ellis said, mouth almost right up against Nick's ear. "I gotcha. You're gonna be fine."

Nick collapsed on the floor of the chopper, Ellis sprawling next to him. The mechanic whooped in total delight.

"Ma-an, I thought we were done for!" He said.

"Good hustle, folks." Coach nodded approvingly. "Next stop, New Orleans."

Nick caught Rochelle's eye.

_He went back for you_ , she mouthed, and Nick glanced over at Ellis, who was inspecting his hat for wear. He thumped Ellis's knee. Ellis looked up.

"Thanks." He said, and offered Ellis a tired smile. Ellis smiled back.

"Don't mention it, Nick." He said happily. "Just didn't want you to end up hating carnivals more than ya already do."

"Yeah, dying'll do that." Nick said wryly, then grinned. "Nah, they're not so bad. Good for making memories and shit, you know?"

Ellis beamed at him. Nick leaned back against the helicopter wall.

Who was he kidding, he fucking hated carnivals.

But the kid wasn't all that bad.


	3. Even Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick's starting to figure it out. Slowly. ...He's trying, alright? 
> 
> Swamp Fever campaign.

They had been so sure they were going to make it this time. What could possibly go wrong in a helicopter, hovering far above the zombie hordes, and blockades of cars, and whatever else was down there?

Turned out, a  _lot_ more could go wrong when you were flying at 10,000 feet, simply due to the fact that you were  _flying_ at  _10,000 feet_.

Nick jolted awake with a start as the helicopter lurched crazily and then dipped, sending him sliding into the opposite wall, up against the back of the pilot's seat, which was when he realized that the pilot was no longer  _in_ the seat.

_He fell out?!_ He thought in shock, and that was when he came to the realization that, no, the pilot was still with them, but not exactly  _with_ them, per se. Because, you know, he was now a zombie.

"FUCK!" Nick yelled, scrambling for his guns, and now Rochelle was screaming, and Coach was shouting, and Ellis clearly had no idea what was going on, and that was when the pilot decided to lunge for the mechanic's face.

Nick's hand closed over his magnum. The helicopter gave another crazy swing, causing the zombie-pilot to misstep, and Ellis managed to slam the palm of his hand up against its face, keeping it at bay. Nick took aim.

"WAIT!" Ellis managed to yell. "WHO'S GONNA FLY THE CHOPPER?!"

Another lurch, Ellis's hand slipped, and the pilot went for the kill.

"That's IT!" Nick bellowed, squeezing his finger on the trigger. "I have  _had it_ with these  _MOTHERFUCKING ZOMBIES_ ON THIS  _MOTHERFUCKING HELICOPTER_."

The landing did not go well.

Somehow, miraculously, they managed to make it away from the burning wreckage of the helicopter, although they were now gun-less. Ellis was actually upset Nick shot the pilot. Nick decided not to point out the obvious fact that the pilot had almost  _eaten_ him.

They were also in a swamp, now. Life just kept getting better and better.

"If I start screaming, it's probably because I'm being eaten alive by an alligator." Nick said grumpily. "God, I hate the South."

"'Gators aren't that bad." Ellis told him. "All you gotta do is get a good hold of their mouths, and they can't do a thing."

"Isn't that crocodiles?" Rochelle wondered.

"Aw, shoot." Ellis furrowed his brow. "I'm not rightly sure. But anyway, I bet I could take a measly little 'gator."

"Why, Ellis." Nick cocked his head. "Do you mean to say you'd save me from any man-eating alligator attacks? I'm touched."

Ellis didn't exactly answer, just ducked his head and grinned. He may have also said "Sure, Nick," but Nick didn't hear, because at that second, he realized what he had just done.

Oh, fuck his  _life_.

"It was  _not_ flirting." He hissed at Rochelle later, the two of them taking point after just crossing on a ferry. "Because we are both  _adults_ , who carry  _guns_ , and  _kill things_ , and it wasn't flirting."

"You are so precious." She replied, sniping a Boomer from a distance. She was still sensitive about that Tunnel of Love thing. "Adults can flirt just fine, Nick."

" _Why_ do you even have this—this crazy  _notion_ that there is even something going on?" He asked, a little desperately. "Ellis is a—a mechanic, for shit's sake. A mechanic from  _Georgia_. If there's anybody less likely to have a big,  _gay_ crush, it's him."

"So,  _you're_ more likely to have a big, gay crush on  _him_ , is that right?"

"What? No!" Nick stared at her. "That's not what I said at all!"

"Why are you so intent on believing he  _can't_ have a crush on you?" She continued. "And have you ever thought about the fact that maybe what he does and where he grew up has nothing to do with it, and that that's just how these things work sometimes?"

It was right around that moment that Nick began to suspect that Rochelle was, in fact, a Jedi.

"I—"

"Just  _pay attention_ , Nick." She shook her head. "Shit."

They didn't really have much time to talk after that, because Coach accidentally triggered the alarm on an airplane safety hatch, and the horde swarmed them.

Okay, fine, he'd start 'paying attention'. He didn't know what he was supposed to be paying attention  _to_ , and Ellis was pretty much always with him, anyway—whenever they had to split into pairs, more often than not the two of them were together. It was something of an unspoken agreement between all of them.

The airplane ordeal shook them all up a bit; they stopped to take a breather inside the safe room. Nick himself had been on the receiving end of some Spitter acid. She'd gotten him right when he was down between some seats in the plane. His leg still burned like crazy. And Ellis had been tossed by a Tank, right before they'd managed to put it down. He limped over to Nick now, and slid down the wall to sit next to him with a small groan.

"Here, take these." The kid said, handing him a bottle of pills. Nick gratefully accepted, popping the cap, and then stopped.

"There's only one left."

"Yeah, I know." Ellis tried to stretch his leg, and winced. "We gotta find more soon."

"No, dumbass,  _you_ need to take this." Nick tried to hand it back. "Look at you, you can barely walk."

"I'll be fine." Ellis grinned. "Ain't no little Tank gonna do me in."

"Ellis, I'm serious. Take the damn pill."

"I'm bein' serious too, you know!" The younger man looked slightly affronted. "I ain't the only one in pain."

Truthfully, and this was all of Rochelle's conjecture and his own uncertainties aside, it bothered Nick to see Ellis hurt. The kid was always so ready for everything, always the first one to charge into the fray.

"If you don't swallow that shit right now, I am going to make you." Nick said sternly. "I need you watching my back, I can't have you all distracted by pain and shit."

Ellis snatched the bottle back. "If you won't take it, then I won't either. Doesn't even hurt that much anyway." He put the bottle back in his pocket.

They sat there, glaring at each other. Finally, Nick nodded.

"Fine."

"Happy now?" Ellis asked, a little crossly.

"Yep." Nick said, leaning back against the wall. He closed his eyes, feeling strangely satisfied, and briefly wondered if this was the kind of thing he was supposed to be paying attention to.

The shantytowns were awful. "Seriously, how did people live like this?" He asked, as they traversed the shaky rooftops.

"Personally, I think they're kinda  _cool_." Ellis said, in response to Nick's disdain. "It's like  _Tarzan_ , if Tarzan were to live in a swamp."

This was such a random statement that Nick couldn't even figure out how it  _didn't_ make sense, so he didn't try to disagree with it.

"How's your leg doing?" He asked instead.

"Feels great!" Ellis hefted his axe. "Don't worry, Nick, anything comes at us, I still got your back."

But even in the dim light, Nick could see his face looked pale, ashen. And Nick wasn't quite sure how to tell him that, besides feeling safer, he'd feel a lot better if Ellis  _himself_ was doing okay, so he didn't say anything.

"So, I think something contributing to this misconception of yours," Nick said to Rochelle later, as he fired out of the moldy windows of one of the abandoned houses, "is the fact that you and Coach always leave the two of us to go check things out by ourselves."

They'd just lowered a ramp connecting two of the houses together, and were now attempting to fight off the resulting horde that had been attracted by the shrieking metal. He figured now would be the perfect time to reopen the subject—like it was just a throw away remark.

Right. As he emptied the clip of an AK-47 into the bloody jaws of a flood of Infected, and Rochelle whipped out a machete to stab a stray zombiefied swamp person. Mmm, casual.

The point was, Coach and Ellis were on the opposite side of the shack, and so couldn't hear him over the frenetic gunfire.

"What if I started accusing the two of  _you_ for having feelings for one another, huh?" Nick continued, "How would that make you feel?"

Rochelle actually stopped killing things for a second to give him a Look. He backpedalled.

"I mean, why  _do_ we always get stuck together?" He asked pointedly.

Rochelle shrugged, and went back to firing. "I think you're the only one of us he can really relate to."

Nick glanced over at her, surprised. "What—me? How do you figure that? You two are closer to the same age."

"Yeah, but I'm a _'_ _girl'_." Rochelle said, air quotes included. "I've barely gotten him to stop calling me ma'am." She wrinkled her nose. "Do I look old enough for 'ma'am', to you?"

"Focus, Ro—what about Coach?"

Rochelle grinned. "To tell you the truth, I think Ellis is still a little nervous around him."

"What, Coach? He's like a big teddy bear."

They both looked back to where the other two were fighting, in time to see Coach club a Spitter to death with a crowbar, and roar, "DIE, YOU STUPID, SPITTIN'  _PIECE OF SHIT_."

Nick blinked. "A… big, extremely  _terrifying_ teddy bear." He amended. "But come on, who among us hasn't felt like doing that at least once?"

The rush was beginning to die down, and they cautiously cleared out of the shack, moving ever closer to the safe room.

"Nick, I don't  _know_ why Ellis seems to like you so much." Rochelle said. "That's something you're going to have to figure out for yourself, honey."

And of course, now that she'd  _said that_ , there was no way he was gonna be able to relax until he figured out just what was going through that kid's stupid head.

If he ever got the chance, because the damn swamp was determined to kill him. They got attacked by hordes  _twice_ before they even managed to make it to the big plantation house and call for rescue. Which was when everything broke loose into sheer, unbridled hell.

"Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ —" Nick shouted, as he saw his death coming in the form of not one, but  _two_ Tanks, blasting full speed ahead and straight for him.

"Just get to the boat!" Coach shouted, firing wildly as he clattered down the front steps, toward the gate their would-be rescuer had just blasted open. Easy for him to say, his escape route wasn't currently being blocked by  _two motherfucking Tanks_.

He didn't think he was going to be able to make it to the boat. Seriously, he hated Tanks, and their uncanny ability to show up right when he least fucking needed them.

And that was when he saw Ellis.

He  _knew_ the kid's leg wasn't as fine as he pretended it was, because he was limping badly now, but Ellis gritted his teeth and let loose with a shell from a grenade launcher he managed to find in one of the houses near the plantation. Predictably, the roar of the blast drew the attention of both Tanks—but it hit one, sending it staggering into the ground, dead.

"ELLIS, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" Nick shouted. Because one down, one to go still equaled almost certain death with Tanks.

"Get movin' Nick!" He yelled back, reloading as fast as possible. "I don't think I can run fast enough—you go, you get to the boat!"

Nick couldn't believe this shit.

The second Tank was confused now; Nick was flailing around behind it, Ellis just took out its friend, and Coach and Rochelle were filling it with lead. So Nick took advantage of the split second pause, and lunged for Ellis, darting past the Tank and grabbing the kid's arm.

"Fuck that." He said. "If you won't move, then I won't either."

Ellis looked shocked for a brief moment, before nodding.

"Fine."

Nick grabbed the grenade launcher out of his hands, pushing him back. "Go, go, or we're all gonna end up dead here!"

He fired another blast at the Tank, and he and Coach and Rochelle covered for Ellis, buying him time. It was actually easier when they hit the water, because then Nick could just drag Ellis with him and then it was just those last couple of feet of dock.

They jumped for it, hitting the deck hard. Ellis's leg buckled underneath him and he yelled in pain  _and_ triumph as the boat pulled away from the dock.

"FUCK YEAH— _ow_!"

"Son of a bitch." Nick panted. "Son of a bitch, son of a  _bitch_ —" He could  _not_ believe they had just survived that shit.

"Thanks, you guys." Ellis said. "I don't… I really don't think I could've—"

"Don't mention it, boy." Coach cut him off. "Ain't no way in hell we'd've left you behind. You rest that leg, you hear me?"

Rochelle caught Nick's eye, and the way she smiled, he  _knew_ she'd seen what had happened.

_What do you want?_ He mouthed. She turned away, grinning. He almost couldn't gather the strength to be annoyed, so he just went and slumped over by Ellis, ungracefully.

"Look what I found." Ellis said, pulling something out of his pocket. A bottle of pills.

"Ellis, I swear to—"

"It ain't the same bottle!" Ellis said, rattling it. Sounded full. "And I already took some. So now you can have these."

Nick reached out, and took them. He cast a sideways glance at Ellis. "Happy now?"

Ellis gave him a slow smile, and leaned back against the wall of the boat.

"Yup."


	4. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things you just have to - literally - learn on your own.
> 
> Hard Rain campaign.

They were safe on Virgil's boat for a few blissful days, sailing out in the middle of the river where nothing could get to them. Ellis invented a game he liked to call the "Snipe the Sons-a-Bitches in the Head" game (amazing how few questions one needed to ask about what the point of it was), and he and Nick spent most of their time sitting with their legs dangling off the side of the boat, trying to see who could rack up more points—in the end, simply killing an Infected was worth two, headshots worth five, and, at Ellis's insistence, direct crotch shots worth seven. Coach often walked by and muttered a lot about "wasting ammo" and "idiot kids".

"Loosen up, Coach!" Nick told him, gazing through his scope and taking careful aim on the nether regions of one of the Infected. "We're sailing right to the evac point, we won't even need these."

He pulled the trigger, right as the Infected's head exploded. Ellis cackled in triumph.

" _Son_ of a—" Nick whipped around to glare at the kid. "That was mine! My seven points!"

"Sorry, Nick, you gotta be faster than that." Ellis grinned.

"Fuck you."

"Hey, boys," Rochelle said, coming up behind them. "Just been to see Virgil—he had some not too great news."

"Yeah, what's that?" Nick asked absently, trying to simultaneously track a zombie with the sniper rifle and keep an eye on where Ellis was aiming. "We outta gas or something?"

When Rochelle didn't answer, he turned around to look at her, catching the tail end of her expression.

"Ah,  _shit_." He groaned. "You have got to be  _kidding me_." He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye at Coach, and recoiled. There was another shot from behind and to his right, and Ellis whooped. A vein bulged in Coach's temple. Nick slowly reached out and pushed Ellis's gun down. "Please don't kill us. Think of the consequences."

"I _am_." Coach said, through gritted teeth. "So far, they're just barely sparing your lives." He stalked off.

"You won't regret it, Coach!" Nick called after him. Then, "Shit. Fucking boat runs outta gas." He looked at the other two. "You think Virgil coulda told us this? I mean, I feel like he should know when his damn boat's gonna make it to New Orleans and when it's gonna crap out on us."

"If you were Virgil, and you had the choice of getting the gas by yourself, or letting four other people depending on the boat do it for you, what would you choose?" Rochelle asked.

Nick sighed. "Dammit."

It was starting to drizzle slightly, almost more a mist than real rain, when they stepped off the boat. Nick checked the clip on his handgun, surveyed the tiny, ramshackle little milltown. He could see a Burger Tank sign not too far off, and thought about making a joke about salvation to Coach, then decided against it. The man was pissed enough at him as it was.

"Nicky, hand me my shotgun." Said man requested. Nick stared at him. Why the hell was Coach asking  _him_?

"Yeah, sure, Coach. If I had it?"

Weirdly, Coach stood frozen for a moment. Then, slowly, he turned to face Nick. Rochelle looked up from inspecting the blade on her axe to stare at him, too. Even Ellis was paying attention to them now, mouth open. All three of their faces conveyed the same expression of dawning horror.

"Uhhh…"

"…Oh, for fuck's sake! Nicholas, I swear to—" Coach stopped, seeming to temporarily lose the ability to talk. He closed his eyes, as if in prayer (probably for patience), and then resumed speaking. "Nick, do you remember that moment, about five minutes ago, when I told you to  _grab the gun bag?"_

Oh, shit. Now that Coach mentioned it.

"Um."

"Do you remember what you said to me?"

"Well—"

"'Sure thing, Coach.'" The big man said, and Nick watched nervously as he bent and picked up a stray crowbar from the ground. "That's what you said to me. ' _Sure thing, Coach_.'"

"I may not have been paying full attention at the ti—"

Coach overrode him. "Tell me, Nick; if you and I had reached such an agreement, why the hell don't I see a  _GUN BAG_  in your hands?"

Nick could sense the bitch slap coming, and defaulted to sarcasm as a defense mechanism.

"Well, who the hell made  _me_ gun monitor?!" He yelped.

 _"I did_." Coach growled.

For a second, Nick thought he was done for. His life flashed briefly before his eyes.

Coach turned away, now thoroughly disgusted. "At least we don't have to deal with our  _low ammunition weapons_." He said acidly. "The ones we  _won't even be needing_."

Nick grimaced, but he could sense a losing fight when he saw one, so he didn't respond.

"Don't worry 'bout it." Ellis said quietly to him later, as they moved past an abandoned playground. "We found guns anyway, so you don't need'a feel bad."

"Shut up, Ellis." Nick snapped. "Who said I was worrying? Wasn't even my damn fault."

It bothered him that Ellis could tell his mood that easily, when he'd practically made a career out of hiding everything he was feeling from other people. How did he do it?

"Okay." Ellis shrugged, and didn't try to talk to him again until they were coming up on the old sugar mill.

"Storm's comin'." Coach said grimly, glancing up at the sky. "A bad one."

"Well, we better hurry, then." Nick griped. He wasn't soaked, just damp through his suit, but the sensation wasn't pleasant, and it was making him irritable as hell. They stepped inside the mill, and froze.

"Holy  _shit_ …" Coach breathed.

"Jesus." Ellis whispered, and it might have been a prayer or a curse, because, "That's a  _lot_  of Witches. Nick, you ever seen that many at once?" He sounded nervous, almost frightened, and Nick didn't blame him. One Witch alone was bad enough, but fifteen, twenty of them? He had a brief flash of that big a number, bearing down on their tiny group of weak humans, eyes shining red and bloody talons stretching, slashing—he swallowed hard.

"Guess we're going in blind." Rochelle muttered darkly, switching off her flashlight. One by one, they all followed suit. The darkening sky overhead lent them little light, but they ventured forward.

By some miracle, some massive stroke of luck, they made it to the gas station. Even the horde that had been attracted by the elevator screeching as it came up to meet them didn't seem so bad after the breathtaking terror of the mill—there were no Witches on the higher floors, so it was only regular Infected they had had to deal with.

The sugar cane fields were another story, and Ellis had almost stepped right on top of a Witch, yanked back and out of the way just in time by Nick.

"Watch where the  _fuck_  you're walking." He'd hissed, heart pounding, once they were safely out of range, and Ellis only nodded with wide eyes and stuck right by him after that, practically walking on his heels. Nick thought about telling him to back the fuck up, but realized that at least this way he wouldn't have to worry unnecessarily. It was with relief that they found their way to the street right outside the station.

"Do you think we can wait the storm out?" Ellis asked. "Not that I'm scared'a a little rain, but we're not gonna be able to see  _anything_  out there. Not even each other, if one of us gets in trouble, or anything." He shot a glance at Nick, who wondered whether he should be resentful. Was Ellis implying that he'd need rescuing?

The kid was right about the severity of the weather, though. The noise outside was deafening, rain pounding on the roof of the station, wind howling. In the hour it had taken them to get there, the rain had gone from light to a Day-After-Tomorrow worthy shit storm. Nick forgot it had even been early evening—the sky outside was black.

Coach shook his head. "No idea when this shit's gonna clear up. And we got to get to New Orleans before they clear out."

"As long as we stay together, we'll be fine." Rochelle said. "We survived everything so far, a little rain isn't gonna hurt us."

Ellis nodded, still looking unsure. She put a hand on his arm, and smiled at him.

"We're gonna be fine." She said, bracingly. "We'll be fine, boys."

Nick watched the mechanic take a deep breath.

"Yeah." He agreed, suddenly. "Rochelle's right." Coach was so surprised at his lack of pessimism that he agreed, too, and Ellis finally smiled.

Once again,  _hilarious_  how often they were completely wrong about these things.

They managed to make it back to the sugar mill easily enough. Ellis found a large pipe they could follow that led almost straight through the cane fields. The only touch-and-go moment was when the storm picked up, right in the middle of the field—if they'd thought the weather had been bad before, it was nothing to this surge. Ellis was standing little more than a foot away from Nick, shouting at what looked like the top of his lungs, and Nick couldn't hear a thing. He couldn't even see Coach, who was last in line, behind Rochelle. Slowly, painstakingly, they inched back to the elevator, until the weather died down enough to see again.

The sugar mill was completely flooded.

"Oh, well that's just great." Nick griped.

"We came from that way." Coach pointed, and they all started the trek back, past the giant white tanks.

That was when the storm picked up again.

"STAY CLOSE!" Nick yelled, voice whipping away in the gale. It was like the whole ground was shuddering with the force of it—he turned to look at Ellis, and saw the expression on his face.

Nick spun around, just in time to see the Tank come careening around a corner. Dimly, he could hear the  _RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT_  of either Coach or Rochelle opening fire. He brought up his machine gun—and the horde hit them, the sound of their arrival, like the Tank's, masked by the howl of the storm. They attacked with ferocity, frenzied by the sound of the storm—or perhaps they were still aware enough to realize that the survivors were completely helpless, deaf and blind, and now was the time to finish them off.

In seconds, the four of them were separated. Nick heard the faint gunfire stop abruptly, and his stomach clenched. He blasted away with the AK-47, seeming to barely dent the group of Infected attacking him. They were pushing him back, but he couldn't see well enough to tell where. He kept firing, and when his gun went dry, he used it to shove the Infected back, and pulled out the axe he'd found.

When the last one fell, he looked around, and realized he was alone.

"Guys?" He called out. The storm had died down yet again, but there was no way to tell when it would erupt again. He took a deep breath. " _ELLIS!"_

No answer. He thought, for a moment, that he heard a faint growl. He needed to keep moving.

 _Somehow._ Somehow he made it out of that mill, back to the safe room they'd found earlier. The door was ajar, and he rushed in, slamming it shut behind him, expecting to hear voices. His angry "you left me!" speech was already on the tip of his tongue, but it died. There was no one in the safe room.

"Shit…" He muttered, panic rising fast. "No, no, no…"

He went through the motions, grabbing a combat shotgun from the table. He dropped the axe in favor of dual pistols. The view out of the safe room had never looked so bleak.

 _Just gotta do this one thing,_  Coach would have said.  _Get through this and signal Virgil and we home free._

And Rochelle would have responded,  _Piece of cake._

And Ellis would have… Nick grit his teeth.

"You guys better be out there." He said, and slammed open the red steel door.  _Let's go kick some zombie ass._

The rooftops were too dangerous to use, with no one there to watch his back. He crept through the flooded streets slowly, listening as hard as he could to the noises around him. Was that a Boomer? Or worse, a Hunter, a Smoker, even a Jockey—something he couldn't get away from without the help of one of his friends?

He had never realized until now how much and how completely he really needed them. Not just because he needed their guns, but because when the storm picked up, when things got bad, all he needed to do was look over to see that there was someone standing right next to him, Coach with his plans, Rochelle encouraging them, Ellis grinning.

He swore inwardly, and hoped to God (something he didn't normally do) that they were alright. That Ellis was alright.

The storm was so bad that it was snuffing out all his senses again—he couldn't hear a thing. And that was when the shittiest thing yet to happen to him that day happened:

He pulled an Ellis and walked right into a Witch.

She noticed.

"Son of a  _motherfucking BITCH!"_  He gasped, reeling away as she screamed, and then she was after him. He emptied a full round of shotgun blasts into her and was just pulling out his pistols when she reached him. She slashed once, furiously, and he went down, screaming in pain as she ripped into him.

He fired with the pistols, again, and again, and  _again_ , until suddenly, she gave a final wailing cry and slumped into the water next to him. He was on a mercifully raised, drier patch of land. He tried to rise, but couldn't—he couldn't feel much, was it possible she hadn't done as much damage as he'd thought? He looked down at his chest.

"Oh, fuck…" He said weakly.

His whole front was torn up, blood not so much spreading as drenching him. It was just the shock keeping him from feeling the pain. On cue, his vision started swimming. He tried to raise his head, to look around him, but he didn't have the strength. And it—his vision, the world around him—was starting to get even darker.

For some reason, he thought,  _At any moment, Ellis is going to show up. Like he always does. He has to._

He had to.

Nick blacked out.

And when he woke up, he was still alone.

He moaned, because he could feel the pain now—but he could also feel his legs, and he hook his fingers in the chain link fence he was leaning against (he was in a small alleyway, perhaps explaining why he hadn't been found and eaten alive yet), and pulled himself up. He cried out, because it  _hurt_ , it fucking hurt, but he had to move. He had to at least get inside somewhere.

He emerged from the alley, and headed for the first house he saw, practically crawling up the stairs to get to the dry part, leaving streaks of blood on the steps and hoping they wouldn't attract anything to him. He staggered through the door, feeling another black out coming, the pain almost too much to fight anymore—

There came a tell-tale  _ch-CHIK_  sound, a shotgun being cocked, and then a voice breathed, _"Nick_ —" and as he keeled over face first, he heard the gun being discarded, thrown aside, and arms reached out to catch him. He kept his eyes shut.

"That you?" He asked. It was hard to talk, even. "Ellis, please… tell me that's you."

"Yeah." Ellis sunk to his knees so he could kind of awkwardly half drag Nick into his arms, and Nick just let himself be handled without protest—even though the movement, shifting his position, hurt as much as it had before, he didn't care. The solid weight around him helped to stop the shaking somewhat. "It's me. I'm right here, Nick."

It was a little anti-climactic, after everything else, Nick thought, fading fast; and he was  _late_ , and dammit, had he seriously been in this house like  _five feet away_  the whole time—but Ellis was finally there, and that was all that really mattered.


	5. Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the end in sight, there’s just one final question that needs to be answered. 
> 
> The Parish campaign.

"It's me. I'm right here, Nick."

"Ellis…" Nick managed to gasp out, "Ellis—" He was trying to tell him that he needed a first-aid kit, Tylenol,  _something_ , because it hurt, he hurt everywhere; but because irony was a bitch, it hurt too much even to say that.

Ellis, somehow, seemed to understand.

"There's nothin' here—I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"Where are…" Nick trailed off, looking around the safe room. He'd just realized that there was no Coach, no Rochelle—no one else running over for support.

"I don't know." Ellis said quietly. "Haven't seen anyone else but you."

Shit. Just the two of them wasn't any better than one; Nick was hardly about to be any help. And…

"Shit," Nick moaned, " _Fuck_ —Coach and Rochelle—you don't think they're—"

The expression on Ellis's face was odd.

"You're worried about them?"

Nick squinted up at him. "Course I am. Are you saying you're not?"

"No, I am, but—you're considerin' other people, even at a time like this." His voice is soft, and if Nick didn't know better, he'd say Ellis sounded almost… proud? Something. "Better be careful, Nick, I think you might be turning into a real human being."

He wondered when it was, exactly, that Ellis had turned into such a smart ass. Perhaps Nick wasn't being quite the role model he should. He stared at the younger man, as shocked that Ellis could be funny given the circumstances as Ellis was surprised he was actually thinking about other people. Something about the situation shook something inside of him—maybe the fact that they seemed to be maintaining, covering, even, for the other's state of mind. That something inside them was still fighting.

Nick braced himself on the palms of his hands, and pushed himself upward. He grit his teeth against the cry of pain struggling to get out of him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ellis asked, sounding slightly panicked. "You shouldn't be movin'!"

"Unfortunately," Nick grated out, "That's exactly what we need to do. We need to get back to that boat, we need to see if the other two made it, and to do that, we need to move."

Without warning, Ellis seemed to snap. Before he could make any further movements, the younger man lurched forward, grabbing him by the shoulders. Nick was leaning against the wall now, so fortunately that didn't jolt him too much. He froze, deer in headlights.

"What—"

"Stop it." Ellis said.

"I… okay?" Nick said uncertainly. What was happening here?

"No, I mean—don't try moving. At least not right now. Please?" Ellis asked. "Please."

"We can't  _stay here_ , Ellis."

"We can." Ellis licked his lips nervously. "We can until you're feelin' better."

Nick laughed grimly. "Don't think that's gonna happen any time soon, kid."

"No, it will, it—dammit, you're  _scarin'_ me." Ellis said desperately. "I thought you were dead when you just fell in here, you can't even  _breathe_ without lookin' like you're gonna die,  _please_ , Nick—" He moved his hands up, to Nick's face, holding him there, the two of them just staring at each other. "I just don't want you to—can't we just stay here?"

Nick could feel his heart start to pound, willed it to slow down. Okay. Okay.  _This_ was happening.

"Ellis." He said, as gently as he knew how. "Ellis, if we don't move, I'm going to bleed out."

Ellis blinked at him, shook his head—

"I will  _die here_ , Ellis." Nick said, more firmly. He took a deep breath. "And God help me, this is  _not_ how I want it to end."

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Then,

"Okay." Ellis dropped his hands. "Okay."

It wasn't much easier getting up with help, but somehow, they got Nick on his feet.

"You hold on to me." Ellis instructed him. "I'm gonna need to be able to shoot."

"Give me your pistol." Nick said. "At least I can fire one."

They limped to the door, and stood there, staring at it, unwilling to go through. Because Hell lay outside that damn door, and neither of them particularly wanted to face it.

"I'm gonna get you to that boat." Ellis swore.

Nick turned his head to face him. He had his arm over the younger man's shoulders, and their faces were close—very close. And Nick realized there was something he needed to ask, still.

"Ellis?"

"Yeah?"

Nick considered the question, and decided against it. There'd be time later. If he didn't ask now, then he'd have to ask later—and that could keep him going. So instead he said,

"When I said I didn't want to die like this… I just meant that I don't want to die in  _this_ fucking place. Honestly… it wouldn't be terrible dying with you."

"That's awful morbid of you, Nick." Ellis said. And then he broke into that  _smile_. And Nick steadied himself, and gripped the pistol tighter in his sweaty hand, because  _fuck_ if they weren't going to survive this.

"Yeah." Nick nodded. "I know."

It was bad outside. But they didn't have far to go, and then Ellis was shouting, "I SEE IT! HO-LEE  _LORD_ ABOVE, I SEE THE BURGER TANK!"

Nick could just make it out, glowing so close to them; Ellis dragged him those last few yards—the pain wasn't even so bad anymore, because they were going to make it, against all the fucking odds—

Too late, he heard the sound of something hack and cough—he felt Ellis jerk, heard him yell, and then there was no warm body to lean against, and he staggered and fell down into the cold water. He looked up frantically—it was a Smoker, of course, dragging Ellis. He raised Ellis's gun, fired as well as he could with his shaking arm, but the creature was too far—and he couldn't even stand on his own, couldn't reach Ellis, who was going to die right there, in front of him—

And suddenly,  _gloriously_ , the head of an axe appeared, punching gruesomely through the Smoker's chest, and  _ripping_ sideways, almost clear out its' right side.

"Goodbye, Mr. Smoker." Coach said, stepping up next to Nick and hauling him to his feet. "And  _fuck_ you!" He added, then yelled out, "Nice one, Ro girl!", even though neither she (nor the dead Smoker) couldn't hear him above the storm. She yanked the blade out of the Smoker's corpse, and shoved the zombie away irately. Ellis leaped to his feet and enveloped her in a hug.

"Been damn worried 'bout you two." Coach said seriously to Nick. "What the hell happened?"

"I ran into a Witch after we got separated." Nick told him, as Coach helped him the rest of the way into the Burger Tank. Coach winced. "What about you and Ro?"

"Tank knocked her out cold." Coach sighed, helping Nick to support himself against a counter. "She's doin' alright now, but I had to wait a while back at the mill for her to wake up."

"Wait, Rochelle got knocked out?" Nick asked. "Coach, did you kill that Tank by  _yourself_?"

Coach shrugged. Nick stared.

"You  _son of a bitch_." He gaped. "What are you, Chuck Norris?  _Jesus_."

Coach chuckled. "Heh. Chuck Norris." He turned away from Nick. "More like Rambo. Yeah..."

Nick could see him nodding to himself in approval. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Nope. Nothing to say to that.

"Okay, kids, listen up," Coach was saying. "I got an idea on how we're gonna call Virgil…"

Once again, Coach's harebrained scheme managed to work. It was a little nerve wracking, what with all the Infected being attracted by the light from the sign, but with three other people around him to help kick some ass, it wasn't bad. It was almost, slightly, a tiny bit fun.

Back on Virgil's boat, it was Ellis who patched him up.

"She really beat you bad, huh?" He asked, rummaging through the supplies for bandages. Nick's chest was all stitched up—not well, since none of them knew how to do it properly, and Ellis wasn't exactly a genius with a needle and thread. It was going to scar, and bad. He'd thought the pain of the stitching wouldn't really be noticeable through the pain of the actual wounds, but he'd been wrong. He'd blacked out at least once.

Also, he was shirtless. His favorite shirt was now completely ruined, much to his dismay. Rochelle was currently hunting for an extra one somewhere aboard the ship.

"Yeah." Nick said. "The phrase 'hits like a girl' is honestly terrifying, now."

Ellis returned with the bandages, and Nick sat up, shakily. He was definitely dangerously close to an overdose with the Tylenol, but at least he could move on his own now, somewhat. Ellis started wrapping the bandages around his torso, hands steady, face one of serious concentration. His expression made Nick want to smile.

"Hey." He said. Ellis looked up. Should he ask now?

No. They still had to get through New Orleans. Better save it.

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Thanks for… you know."

"Don't mention it, Nick." Ellis smiled and went back to wrapping the bandages. "You just take care of yourself, now. Try not to get your ass whupped again."

Nick smacked him upside the head.

Two days later, and:

"Alright, folks. This is as far as Virgil go."

Nick stepped off the boat, a little gingerly. The past two days had been spent sleeping, but he was healing nicely. He wore a plain black t-shirt under his suit now, Rochelle's doing.

"Thanks, Virgil." Coach called. "You stay safe!"

It was weird saying goodbye to the one other person they'd really interacted with this entire time. Even Nick raised a hand in farewell.

"We're finally here." Rochelle said, swallowing hard.

"We haven't gotten to the evac yet." Nick reminded her, almost disliking being the pessimist—but they couldn't get their hopes up, not now. Look how the other times had turned out. Rochelle nodded, blinking excessively, and he gave her a brief, slight smile.

"We made it this far." Ellis said, coming up to stand beside him.

"And we'll make it to that evac!" Coach said, almost defiantly. "And hell, if that ain't no good…"

He trailed off, as if considering for the first time that it wouldn't,  _might not_ be.

"Then we keep going." Nick said, unexpectedly. "If it's no good, we'll just keep going, like we've been doing."

They all looked at him, with varying degrees of surprise.

"You remember how I said… back at the mall, that I'd be here until we hit New Orleans?" He asked. Ellis nodded. Nick smirked. "Well, I still am, aren't I?" Feeling a bit over dramatic, but also like he'd earned the right to be, he pumped his shotgun, once.

_Ch-CHIK!_

"Let's do this."

They were doing fine until they started getting bombed.

"Holy  _SHIT_!" Nick gasped, feeling the ground shake beneath him, worse than a Tank attack.

"They don't know we're here!" Coach yelled in frustration.

"Yeah, or the military are just assholes." Nick grumbled. "Hey, Ellis, good thing there's a cemetery back there just waiting for us, huh?"

Ellis laughed, while Rochelle rolled her eyes.

"So not funny." She said.

"Oh come on, it's a little funny."

Although okay, really, it wasn't. Because if they'd managed to survive the hordes of Infected and then got offed by a stupid bomb, he was going to be ridiculously pissed.

If it had been tense before, it was nothing compared to running as the sky fell down around him, dropping fire and rock where it hit. And then combine that with bloodthirsty zombies, and the whole day was pretty much just  _bad_.

"I  _hate_ America!" Nick said angrily, running backwards, firing into the mess of zombies tearing after them. "I swear, after this is all over, I'm moving to Canada. Maybe I'll just ask the helicopter pilot to drop me off."

"You sure you don't wanna just shoot him instead?" Ellis called back, holding a safe room door open for him.

"For the  _last time_ , Ellis, he was a god damn zombie!" Nick yelled. "He couldn't fly and eat us at the same time."

He passed the red door and slammed it shut in the Infected's faces  _right_ as they caught up to him, fighting down a triumphant, "HA!", and instead sprayed shotgun pellets out the bars until the noise was quiet.

"Damn." Coach swore. "Anybody know how to make a decent sling? My left arm's no good…"

He'd been hit by a piece of falling rubble ( _rubble_ , of all things) in one of the buildings. Just another reason to be pissed at the military—it was their fault, not the zombies', that the indomitable Coach was injured. It was just lucky it wasn't his gun hand.

Incidentally, Nick thought, that could totally be a bad ass nickname for him. The Indomitable Coach. Like a song, or something.

"I got it." Rochelle said, pulling a health kit out of one of the cupboards. "I mean, I'll try my best."

"Thanks, Ro."

Nick climbed the ladder to the room above the one they were in, scouting around for more ammo, more health. A look out the safe room door didn't show much. They were right next to a bridge, although it wasn't lowered. Dimly, he wondered where they were supposed to go from here.

"Canada, huh?" Came a voice from behind him; he jumped a little, and hoped no one had noticed.

It was Ellis, of course. He began inspecting the weapons on the table, hovered his hand over a molotov, then settled on a pipe bomb.

"What?" Nick asked.

"You said you were gonna move to Canada." Ellis said.

"Oh." Nick tapped his gun, unsure of what to say, really. "I was joking."

Ellis laughed. "I know, I'm just messin'."

They both puttered around, not really doing anything. Coach and Rochelle were still downstairs. Nick looked back out the window; he suddenly had a thought. And it was:

Am I just being incredibly stupid?

Answer: yes.

"—I was wonderin' what you  _were_ planning on doing, though," Ellis was saying, "I mean, after this. 'Cuz as for myself, I have  _no_ idea, an' I was  _thinkin'_ —"

"Ellis?" Nick cut him off. Ellis stopped rambling. And there was no avoiding the question this time. Because what if— _what if_ —they didn't make it? And he'd never gotten the chance to ask. So he does.

"Why the fuck do you like me?"

And for a second, he thought that he wasn't going to get anything. That Rochelle, he, it— _everything_ would all have just been wrong.

But then Ellis, being Ellis, gave him an honest fucking answer.

"'Cuz I just do."

And this answer made all the sense in the world, and none at all, at the same time. Nick shook his head, speechless. Ellis took a deep breath, and continued.

"'Cuz you've saved my life more times than I can count." He said, and kept going, the words coming faster and faster, "'Cuz you act like you want nothin' to do with me but I think you're just _lyin'_ —because you're an ornery bastard but you'd risk your life just to make sure Coach and Rochelle and me are okay, 'cuz—"

Nick crossed the two steps between them, and kissed him.

He took Ellis's face in his hands like the younger man had done for him, when he'd been hurt and scared in the little rundown house in the middle of nowhere. And Ellis kissed back.

And all of that made perfect sense.

"Because you just do, huh?" He murmured against Ellis's lips a moment later, voice low, trying so hard to convey  _everything_ to him. Ellis nodded, bumping their foreheads together.

"Uh huh." He breathed. "So what're you doin' after this?"

It was almost like a bad pick up line, 'what are you doing after work', but Nick knew what he meant. He still wanted to know what Nick was planning, after they were done with the whole damn apocalypse. And Nick understood why it was so important to him.

"I don't know." He said, kissing Ellis again, briefly, "Haven't got a fucking clue."

"Me neither." Ellis admitted.

"Well, isn't that a coincidence?" He smirked, and Ellis licked his own lips distractedly and then proceeded to kiss the look off him. Oh, so smirking was a good thing. File  _that_ away, he thought, lazily slipping his tongue into Ellis's open mouth.

There was a scuffling sound from the ladder, and they snapped apart. Ellis spun around back to the gun table, leaving Nick to awkwardly stare at the wall.

"What's a coincidence?" Rochelle asked, climbing into the room, and helping Coach up after her.

"Nothing." Nick said. "I mean, we both just… don't know what we're doing. After the apocalypse, and all."

Rochelle took one look at the two of them, Nick looking a little flustered, more mussed than usual, Ellis's cheeks slightly red, and she  _knew_. Nick can see it in the way her eyes glint. Fuckin' Jedi warriors, always getting up in other people's business.

"Don't reckon any of us know." Coach said, oblivious to all of this. "Hard to know what's even gonna be left."

"Maybe…" Ellis finally turned around. "Maybe we can just figure it out together?" He glanced sideways at Nick.

Nick shrugged nonchalantly. "Sounds like a plan."

He could tell Ellis got it from the way he smiled.

Coach nodded. "I like it."

"Oh, good, Coach, I'm so glad you approve."

"Smart ass." Coach jerked his head at the safe room door. "You can go first."

Nick rolled his eyes. He stepped up to the door and pulled off the bar.

And then, with one last glance around himself to make sure they were all right there, right next to him, he shoved the door open... and stepped out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone so, so much for reading and commenting. <3 you all.


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